The Clue in the Diary (10 page)

“Oh, yes! Phil told me. Won’t you come in?”

After the girls had entered and the door had been closed, Nancy introduced her friends.

“I’ve come on an unusual errand, Mr. Roberts,” Nancy said. “A man I know who works at Stanford Electronics has sent two letters containing money orders from here. Neither has been received. Probably all your employees are above suspicion, but would you mind if I make a little experiment?”

The postmaster smiled. “What kind of experiment?”

“I’ll mail a note to the man’s wife with a money order in it from your office,” Nancy explained. “Could you possibly find out if that letter is sent out from here?”

Mr. Roberts looked intently at Nancy. “You’re a very ingenious young lady,” he remarked. “And if the letter does leave here, then you’ll check with the receiving post office to find out if it has reached there?”

“Yes. The family of this man is desperately in need of receiving money from him. I’m trying to help them.”

“And I’ll help too,” the postmaster said suddenly. “Now, will you please give me the name and address of this woman?”

Nancy took Joe Swenson’s unsealed envelope from her purse and Mr. Roberts copied the two names and addresses on it. As he handed it back, he said, “Mail this at once.” Then he added, “If you come back in a couple of hours, I’ll have a report for you—after I personally examine all the outgoing mailbags.”

“I’ll be here.” Nancy thanked the postmaster and the three girls went into the main lobby. There, Nancy bought the twenty-five-dollar money order, kept the purchaser’s receipt, and tucked the other section, properly filled out, into the letter. Then she sealed the envelope and slipped the letter into the nearby slot.

When the girls reached the street, Bess said, “That was a daring thing to do, Nancy. Suppose the letter is intercepted, and the money order cashed by some unscrupulous person?”

“If that happens, I’ll make good on the money. Right now, tell me, where are we going to spend two hours?”

George suggested attending a movie across the street, and the girls went into the theater. They became so interested in the historical mystery film that the time flew by. The feature ended just as the two hours were up, and the girls hurried back to Mr. Roberts’ office.

Again he opened the door. The postmaster was not alone. A policeman stood guarding a man who sat dejectedly in a chair, his face in his hands. He looked up at Nancy, hate blazing in his eyes. The money-order clerk!

“Nancy Drew, thank you for leading us to this thief!” the postmaster said. “Ralph Ringman has confessed to taking not only the letter you mailed, but all money orders of any size. He has two accomplices, a man and a woman, who go to various towns and cash the money orders.”

“I’m not the only employee in on this deal,” Ringman cried out.

Mr. Roberts smiled. “I figured that might be the case, and have notified other postmasters who have had complaints of undelivered money orders to try the same ruse that Nancy Drew suggested.”

At that moment the phone rang. Mr. Roberts answered it. “Yes, Clyde.... You did? ... Good! I guess that little racket is over with.”

When he hung up, Mr. Roberts reported to the others that Ringman’s outside accomplices had just been arrested by the police and had confessed their parts in the scheme.

On a hunch, Nancy told about the rough-looking man who had questioned her. “Was he in league with Ralph Ringman?” she asked the postmaster.

“That’s right.” Mr. Roberts turned to the prisoner. “You’ll be interested to hear that your pal meant to double-cross you. He planned to hold up Swenson at the plant and grab Swenson’s money for himself. Just as he was about to emerge from his hiding place in the shrubbery nearby, Miss Drew and her friends came along. When he overheard the conversation about the stolen mail, he got panicky. That’s why he followed Miss Drew and accused her of snooping.”

“The low-down sneak!” snarled Ringman.

Mr. Roberts said that a man from the Postal Inspectors Division would take custody of the prisoner. “By the way,” he said to Nancy, “do you still want Mr. Swenson’s letter sent?”

“Yes, if it’s safe. I’ll give the money order receipt to him.” Nancy glanced at her watch. “We must hurry,” she said. “Thank you, Mr. Roberts. Please give my regards to Phil.”

The girls hurried off. At a traffic light they paused, waiting for it to turn green. Behind them stood two men conversing in low voices.

“Where’d you get the tip?” one asked.

“From Raybolt’s wife. She said the man who set fire to the house had an appointment with him there that evening.”

“I heard he ran away. Where’d he go?”

“Nobody knows. But we tracked him here. He’s working at the electronics factory under an assumed name.”

“What is it?”

“We don’t know. But we have the man’s description. We’ll have him in jail by tonight!”

Nancy, Bess, and George hardly breathed during this recital. Did these men mean Joe Swenson?

 

 

 

THE traffic light turned green and the three girls began to cross the street. Nancy made a point of staying in front of the two men who had said they were going to see that someone, presumably Joe Swenson, was arrested.

“Who are these men?” she wondered. “Detectives? Or are they in the employ of Raybolt? If Mr. Swenson is innocent, he mustn’t be sent to jail!”

Nancy immediately made up her mind what she would do: meet Honey’s father if possible, show him the diary, and ask him to translate some of it. “Then I’ll decide what to do next, and whether or not to warn Mr. Swenson of his possibly being arrested. He and his family shouldn’t have to suffer such disgrace if it’s unwarranted!”

When the girls reached the opposite curb, Nancy took her friends’ arms and whispered, “Come on! Hurry! We have work to do!”

They ran to Nancy’s car. Nancy handed the keys to George. “Will you drive, so I’ll be free to hop out and get hold of Mr. Swenson the instant he comes to the gate?”

George took the wheel and they made record time to the factory. She parked in the first space beyond the front of the gate, and left the engine running.

“You girls watch for those men we overheard. I’ll look for Joe Swenson,” Nancy directed.

As she spoke, the four-o’clock whistle blew.

“He’ll be out any minute now!” George exclaimed.

Anxiously the girls scanned the faces of the workmen as they came from the building. “Where is he?” Bess fretted.

At that moment Nancy caught sight of the inventor. She alighted and called his name. With a smile of friendly recognition, he came over to the car.

“Jump in!” Nancy invited, indicating the rear seat. “We’ll give you a lift.”

“Why, thanks,” the inventor returned gratefully. “I live on the south side. Another fellow and I share a room at the outskirts of town. I imagine it’s out of your way—”

“Not at all,” Nancy assured him with a worried glance up and down the street.

In her haste to leave the plant area, Nancy climbed in and almost pulled the man in after her. She asked George to press the button to roll up the convertible’s top.

“A man certainly appreciates a ride home after a hard day on his feet,” Swenson remarked, leaning back against the cushion. “I’m not yet accustomed to standing eight hours, but I’ll be all right in a week or so. I’m glad to earn a little money by any means, after being out of work for so long.”

As George drove down the street, Nancy said, “Mr. Swenson, the mystery about your lost letters has been solved.” Quickly she explained about the mail clerk who had been arrested.

The inventor was shocked, and shook his head sadly. “I’m glad he has been caught. But what an unfortunate thing for him to do. He probably has a family—they’ll have to suffer with him. Crimes, big or little, are so useless. Whatever profits they may bring are always temporary.”

Nancy nodded. She was becoming more convinced every minute that Joe Swenson was an honest person!

“I have another surprise,” she said. “Your diary was picked up near the drive to the Raybolt house.” She took the journal from her handbag. “Would you mind translating some of the Swedish for me?”

“My diary! Oh, how lucky!” Almost affectionately he began to turn the pages. “Here is an item about Honey’s birthday. How she loved the little toy I made for her! I was always planning to try to market those mechanical dolls, but I never got to it.”

George interrupted to ask which direction to take, and Nancy said, “Oh, let’s just ride out into the country.”

She wanted to elude the men who intended to arrest Mr. Swenson until she could make up her mind what to do. Suddenly the inventor’s face darkened. “Here’s a note about Felix Raybolt.” He translated, “‘I have been warned by my friend Anson Heilberg not to let Raybolt see my invention but I shall take a chance. I must because I need money for rent and food. He will give me an advance.’ ”

Mr. Swenson remarked bitterly, “How I wish I had listened to Anson! Felix Raybolt would not give me another cent or any part of a royalty from the use of my electrochemical process for putting a ceramic finish on steel!”

“How terribly unfair!” Bess cried out, and the other girls expressed the same opinion.

Nancy then told the inventor that a friend of hers had found the signet ring. “I’ll see that it is returned to you,” Nancy assured him.

“Well, that is good news,” said Mr. Swenson.

Nancy gradually switched the conversation to the Raybolt fire, and said, “The investigators report that the explosions in the house could have been caused by a freak accident: a television set not working properly; a defective electronic heating device setting off some kind of explosive stored in the cellar. Mr. Swenson, have you any idea
what
really happened at the Raybolts’?”

Mr. Swenson looked at Nancy searchingly. “My answer might explain a good many angles to the case,” he said slowly. “As you probably know, it’s against the law to store explosives without a permit. I believe Felix Raybolt was breaking that law. He probably was in the house waiting for me and accidentally caused the explosion himself!”

“But they found no evidence of—of a body,” Bess spoke up with a shudder.

“Mr. Raybolt undoubtedly escaped, and then disappeared, knowing he would be arrested,” the inventor said vehemently.

“But you didn’t
see
him run out?” Nancy queried.

“No.”

“We should have looked for footprints, but I guess it’s too late now,” Nancy remarked.

“Oh, why didn’t we think of that!” Bess murmured. She had turned around to watch out the rear window for any pursuers. Suddenly she gasped. “Police!”

George had just passed a side road. From it shot a car with two state troopers. When it turned in their direction, George said grimly, “I hope they’re not after us.”

All the occupants of the convertible grew tense, but Nancy said, “Just keep going at this same speed. Let’s not act guilty.”

By this time she was convinced of Mr. Swenson’s innocence, and hoped fervently that the officers were not pursuing her car. Nancy doubted they would take her word about the truth of the inventor’s story.

“Maybe they’re after someone else—for speeding,” Bess said, though without conviction.

Nancy stole a glance out the rear window. Her spirits sank. The State Police car was gaining on them, but did not look as though it was going to pass the convertible.

An uneasy thought crossed Nancy’s mind. “If those troopers
are
after Joe Swenson, then George, Bess, and I might be arrested for aiding a suspected criminal to escape!”

George was forced to slow down for a sharp curve. Directly beyond it, two men were driving a small herd of cattle across the highway.

“What luck!” George cried, slowing down.

She honked her horn and tried to edge through, but only succeeded in frightening the cows so that they stood motionless. The convertible came to a halt. Behind it, the police car drew nearer.

Nancy had a sudden impulse to tell Joe Swenson to duck down out of sight, then checked herself. Such an action would indeed make the officers suspicious. Instead, she slipped the diary into her handbag.

Nancy glanced at her companion. Mr. Swenson’s face was grim. The police car pulled up alongside the convertible. Nancy’s heart was in her throat, but she tried not to show any agitation.

The two herdsmen had headed the cows off to the side of the road. Affecting nonchalance, George started to drive off. But a shout from the troopers’ car stopped her.

“Hold on!” one of the officers cried out. “Pull over!”

“They
were
following us,” Bess groaned.

Quickly Nancy whispered to Joe Swenson, “Don’t worry. We’ll stick by you.”